At Fifteen Years of Age
by aliencatt
Summary: At fifteen years of age, Dean Winchester shot his father, grabbed his younger brother, ripped the keys to the Impala from the counter and fled. AU, Wincest,pre-series, FAO
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just a fan.

* * *

Pre series

Sam,Dean, John,Bobby

Wincest

* * *

==000==

At fifteen years of age, Dean Winchester shot his father, grabbed his younger brother, ripped the keys to the Impala from the counter and fled.

==000==

They had no money and Dean did not know what to do. He had taken all the cash he could get from the one credit card he dared use. The other had forced him to run as the shop owner looked at him askance and demanded ID. Of course it did not match. Dean's ID put him at seventeen, old enough to drive but not much else. On close inspection, no one was liable to believe it anyway. Dean Winchester was 'blessed' with good looks, boyish good looks. Now he had less than a dollar in his pocket, the emergency stash under the back seat of the car long gone.

He was getting desperate.

Hanging around outside the convenience store, he debated the chances of shoplifting without getting caught. He bit his lip, hands fisted in his pockets, one foot rubbing against his other leg, the denim worn and thin, the boot getting too small for his foot. He was hungry. Worse, Sammy was hungry.

"You lost or just waiting?"

Dean barely hid his surprise as the man spoke to him. "For what?" he said without thinking. He did not look cop or social worker, both of which he was having to hide from. He appeared like a man on his lunch break and Dean thought, he studied him as if he was on the menu.

"I'll give you thirty bucks if you come with me into that ally." Indicating with his head.

Dean knew what he meant. What he wanted in the ally. Dean looked that way, then back at the man, then the ground. If he did that, if he led the man around the corner and into the ally, then got down on his knees, it would be enough to feed Sammy for a week if he was careful. He looked across at the car and saw his brother, eyes wide, as the boy pressed his hands to the window watching his every move.

It would be easy wouldn't it? It was not as if this was the first time he had been offered money. Dean had been propositioned several times before but, Dean had a notion. Possibly a romantic notion, but he truly believed that the first time you 'gave it up', it should be for someone you loved, or at least liked.

"Well?" the man asked getting impatient.

Dean looked at him once more, then at the Impala. If he did this, it would have all been pointless. All the struggling to stretch what little money they had, could make on the rare odd job he could find. The going hungry so Sammy did not have to. The degrading hanging around behind bakeries and grocers until they threw out the days stale bread or out of date produce. He shook his head and moved away easily avoiding the hand as it made a grab for his arm.

He felt the coins in his pocket, rubbing them together as he had done so many times these last few days. Quickly looking around, making sure Sammy was still safely locked in the car, he spotted the phone booth.

He did not know what else to do. He thought he was slowly losing it, whatever 'it' was. But he knew he was losing. The only thing that had been keeping him sane, keeping him whole, was the warm soft breaths against his neck as he held his brother tight, desperately trying to keep him warm under the worn blanket in the back of the Impala. The only bed, the only home they had had for the last eleven months.

It took a while. Stood with the handset held tight, his knuckles white, he argued all the pros and cons yet again. He dialled, he waited and after an eternity a gruff voice demanded, "Yeah?"

Dean swallowed, for better or worse he admitted finally, "Caleb, I think I need help. I don't know what to do."

==000==

Dean took his phone from his jacket for the third time, entering Sam's number then closing and putting it away without calling. He fiddled with the beer bottle on the bar and sighed. He missed his brother. He was lonely but in no mood to spend the evening with either of the two women that had approached him. He knocked back the beer thinking to leave and go to a different type of bar, but instead, caught the barman's attention motioning for another. He could not summon up the will to move.

The days hunt had left him cold. A simple salt and burn, but the image of the young boy screaming his pain, anger and frustration had gotten to him. He seldom liked to dwell on the reasons behind why 'people' stayed long past their use by date. Get in, waste the thing and get out, be it a monster, human or otherwise, a thing from nightmare or the ghost of a nine year old boy. But…..

The look in the boy's, _thing's_, he corrected himself, eyes, had reminded him so much of those times early on when his brother would turn to him and ask yet again, 'why?' and he had no answer to give him. The only thing he could give him was love and he did. He would pull Sammy into a hug and just rock him, apologising over and over again that he had no answer.

_That _day Dean had thought he was going to die, that Sammy would die, that their ...John would die. It had been horrific. The beast had so many fangs, so sharp and long and it had had Dean by the throat. Then it had all gone black, the last thing he heard before unconsciousness took him was Sam screaming his name.

When he had come to, he could still hear Sam calling his name. As he shook his head to clear it he heard the fear in his brother's voice and looked up to see a gun pointed at Sam's head. Held by their father.

From that day on, Dean's whole world had been protecting and loving his brother even more than before. At least Sam had that. People who loved him. He thought of that ghost again. From his research and the look on the things face, he hazarded that the boy had never known that. At least he was at peace now. Dean had done that much for the 'kid'.

He pulled the phone out once more. Sam answered groggily on the fifth ring. "Hey Dean. You okay?" and he immediately felt better at the concern he heard in his brother's voice.

"Yeah. Guess I woke you." quietly, smiling fondly.

"Doesn't matter. Where are you?" and Dean could hear the yawn, imagined as he ran a hand up through the dark bed tussled hair.

"Some bar feeling sorry for myself." And laughed. It was not what he had meant to say.

"Where? Close enough to come see me?" a hint of eagerness that made him grin.

"No" laughing lightly. It would have to be Dean that went to Sam. Sam did not have a car. No matter how many Bobby had offered him, he never took one. Made sense in a kind of way Dean supposed. Sam had spent too much of his childhood in the back of one. Until Bobby had taken them in.

Once more he had a rush of gratitude to Caleb for helping them. For taking them to Singer's Scrap yard. He often wondered at the 'what ifs' if Caleb had not balked at the idea of having two teenagers to take care of. But he had found them a home and it had been a damned good one too under the circumstances.

"So…what's wrong?"

"Nothin'"

"Dean!"

"Fine. Had a bad one."

"You hurt?" cutting in immediately worried.

"No. No. I'm fine. Just got me thinking."

"And..?"

"Just kinda…you know. Just wanted to hear your voice." He could have smacked himself in the head for that. Especially as Sam chuckled.

"How many you had? One too many or one too few?"

"Both." Laughing at himself. "Go back to sleep. I'll call Thursday as usual."

"You sure? I can talk now."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go sleep. I'm gonna turn in myself."

"Okay. See ya. Luv ya."

"Yeah. Night Sammy. See ya. Luv ya." And, smiling a little sadly, but feeling a whole world better, he called for a glass of whisky and set to thinking about that other bar again. Maybe he could find someone tall, dark and handsome. He'd never be the man of his dreams though. That role was already taken.

==000==

Another night, another bar. Maybe it was time he went home. He had been gone for over a month now and although Bobby knew he was okay, there had been plenty of hints in the last phone call about coming back to the junkyard. But it was not the same with just the two of them. Sometimes he would play music too loud just to hear Bobby yell like he always did at Sam.

Maybe he should go home. Could be Bobby was missing them both. He always said how he preferred the company of Rumsfeld, but neither of them ever believed him. Yes, he decided, tomorrow he would go home.

"Can I buy you a drink?" the voice gruff, as the man slid onto the stool next to Dean.

He just continued to stare blindly into the bottom of his glass, the thick liquor swirling in the depths. "No." short with no emotion. The best way to handle unwanted attention was to ignore it. Worked on things like emotions too, but sometimes they, like people were persistent and needed more to take the hint.

"You hate me that much, that you won't even have a drink with me?" Dean froze as his heart missed a beat, then another, before it kick started again. He knew that voice. "It's not that much to ask. A drink after all these years." Dean just blinked as his eyes stung. "In fact you should buy me one as thanks."

"For what?" he could not help but ask, unable to move.

"For not tracking you down and kicking your ass for the bullet you left in me."

Dean knocked back his drink and swivelled off the stool showing his back to the man that had once been his father. He stated, "Then we're even."

"How so?" equally curious and amused.

"For not tracking you down and finishing the job." Dean held it all tightly together, the anger, the shock, the fear of John Winchester finding him and, throwing a couple of bills on the bar, calmly walked from the building. He did not look at the man once. To do that would be to acknowledge his existence, the power he had over him. Sammy, he had to get to Sammy. Before John did.

Once outside the bar, checking to be confident he had not been followed, Dean ran.

==000==

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

==000==

"Damn it Sammy! Answer the your fuckin' phone." Not the most pleasant message he had ever left his brother but heartfelt. He growled in frustration, throwing the cell onto the passenger seat of the stolen car, not as big as the Impala or as soothing to drive, but he did not want soothing. He wanted dark, nondescript and, although it was a slim chance, he hoped the 'other' Winchester would be fooled into thinking he had not left yet. Even if the ruse only lasted an hour, it was an hours head start. But damn, he hated to leave the Chevy behind. It was the only thing he had left from 'the time before', as he and Sam called it. From the time the three of them were a family, before John had tried to kill Sam.

How? Why now? They thought him dead. Dean thought he had killed him. He wanted to throw up, his stomach rebelling at the lie. He pulled to the side of the road falling out of the car just as his stomach heaved. All the running, all the hiding, never daring to be who they were, never admitting to their given names. Finally, 'officially' taking Bobby's surname on Dean's eighteenth birthday. All the stuff they had been through. All he had put Sammy through. All that, running from a murder he had not even committed.

=0=

Holding the hysterical boy by an arm around his waist, it had been a struggle to get out of the room, but once Dean had his brother secured in the back of the car, he took a much needed, steadying breath. Then, turning a deaf ear to his brother's fists against the glass, he slowly re-entered the run down cabin.

Gun held in front of him, he crept back into the room. Nothing had changed, no miracle or nightmare had happened in the eternity since he had shot his father. John Winchester lay sprawled on his back, blood on his chest still weeping from the bullet wound that looked so large to Dean's wide eyes. The shock on his father's face matching his own. It took all of the teenagers courage to move the few yards to the prone figure. Prodding Winchester senior with the end of the pistol trembling in his hand, he let out a breath then fell to his knees.

He could hear nothing but blood rushing through his veins as his heart beat frantically. A scream was boiling up from somewhere deep inside and he knelt bowed over, almost in supplication, 'please can this be a dream, a nightmare. Please.'

Kneeling up, wiping a hand over his face, his eyes slowly moved to the corpse. Corpse. Dear God what had he done? Quickly he lent over feeling for a pulse in his father's neck. Nothing. Sinking back, shoulders slumping, head dropping, he just stared at the gun held loosely in his hand until it fell from his numb fingers. The noise startled him from the fugue he had slipped into.

Once more the horror hit him. Sammy crying as their father held him by the scruff of the neck, his hand so large compared to his little brother, the gun, now by Dean's knee, pointed at the young boy's forehead. Why the fuck had John Winchester gone insane and tried to kill Sammy, an eleven year old boy, his son?

Getting slowly to standing, Dean did not realise that that was the last time he ever thought of the man at his feet as their father. From that moment they had no father, alive or dead.

By the time he had grabbed everything he could, the little money he knew of, the weapons he could find and his own and siblings meagre belongings, Sammy was curled up on the back seat of the Impala shaking. He did not acknowledge Dean's presence but shrank away from his touch.

Dean's heart broke.

They had to get away and, although all he wanted was to climb onto that bench seat and pull the young boy into his arms and hold on for dear life, he threw all their belongings into the trunk. Staring at the blood stained wallet he had taken from the dead man's jacket and the ever present journal, he slammed the lid down and, seeming to age years in an instant, climbed behind the steering wheel. Being careful not to dislodge Sammy, Dean pulled the car away from the cabin and the life they had know.

He had driven until his eyes were dry, until the white lines bisecting the blacktop began to blur and cross in front of him. He reluctantly found a place to pull over, angling the large car along a dirt track into deep woods. There could be nothing hiding out there more frightening than what they had left behind.

Climbing over the bench, he finally curled himself around the now, thankfully, sleeping figure. He buried his face in his brother's hair wanting that clean, innocent smell that was always there, that was Sammy, but he could smell smoke and something worse, no doubt lingering from the previous night's hunt, before the 'nightmare'.

Sammy murmured something, twitching in his sleep and Dean just held him closer causing the younger to settle. Finally exhaustion over took him even as he fought against it.

The next day they just drove. He did not know where to go, only to get as far away from that cabin as they could. Sam was so quiet sat beside him, curled against the door staring out of the side window. Dean did not believe he was seeing the scenery.

Stopping for gas and food neither wanted but needed, Sam clung to him without actually touching. Still he said nothing, leaving Dean to be extra 'charming' to the motherly waitress easing her mind. They left quickly. He could not afford to answer so many questions. Questions would lead to trouble, to Sammy being taken into care. Hell, himself also.

Another night, this time parked behind a burnt out barn. Sam had begun to talk and Dean hated it more than the silence. Because Sammy did not even know what he had done.

He kept begging Dean to tell him why? Why had Dad tried to kill him? and all Dean could do was hold him tight and whisper to him to be quiet, it would be okay, he would look after him. "But, Dean. Why? What did I Do?" so desperate.

"I don't know, Sammy." And he rocked him till Sam stopped shaking, till Sam finally fell into an exhausted sleep and it was Dean's turn to shake. His tears fell into the soft hair of his brother and he thought and thought. He racked his brains and he could come up with nothing. Dean had no idea why John, who had always been gruff and treated them older than their years, who expected obedience but protected them and had always let them know in his rough manner that he loved them more than his own life, had suddenly tried to kill his youngest son.

Sammy was not the only one to cry himself to sleep on the back seat of the Impala, on the lonely disused track, in the middle of nowhere.

=0=

Wiping his mouth, slamming the door, Dean pulled back onto the road and pressed down hard on the accelerator. He had to get to Sam.

==000==

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

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==000==

His brother looked so happy, carefree, his arm around the blonde Dean took to be Jessica. Sam had gone on and on about her a couple of months ago, wanting Dean to know everything and Dean had smiled on the other end of the phone line as so many miles away as his brother had sounded so close.

He followed the pair at a safe distance. How could he tell him now? How could he be the cause of 'that' look he knew would steal over his brother's face?

Three days he had been watching, desperate to go to him but reluctant. He wanted Sam's world to continue just as it was for as long as possible, but could not leave. He had to stay and protect him, hopefully from nothing but he doubted that. He would stay as close as he could, for as long as he could and if the danger caught up with him he could deal with it then leave, before Sammy ever found out. -

It had been a near thing when Sam finally returned his call. Dean was only twenty yards away hanging behind the notice boards. He frantically pulled the cell from his pocket sure his brother would hear it as it continued to ring Deep Purple.

He managed to convince him he had been drunk and feeling angry because he hadn't answered the first few times Dean rang. He was close enough to see the almost fond smile as his brother sat in the sun on a university lawn obviously waiting for someone. He had had a pang of resentment that Sam only called him while he was killing time, but reminded himself this is what he had wanted. He had wanted Sam to have a life without him. Things had been getting a little too intense, and he knew he had to give his brother 'space'. He had needed it too, before he did something they would both regret.

Now, as Sam laughed at something the stunning, he had to admit, blonde said, Dean felt it once more, that tugging deep in his belly. He knew what it was. He was jealous.

"Is that Him?" spoken right by his shoulder and Dean swung around knife coming easily to hand to be confronted by John Winchester, stood hands in pockets, looking off at his youngest son, an almost wistful expression on his face.

Dean just stared. John's attention shifted to look at his eldest. He did not need to say it. Dean dropped his head ashamed that he had let the man catch him unawares. He had been thinking about Sammy in _that_ way again and once more had let him down. Not least that he had thinking those things again.

"Why are you here?" taking a step back straightening up, ignoring what he was feeling, that he cared what this man thought of him.

"Still want that drink."

"What?" incredulous.

"We need to talk."

"There's nothing to say."

"Oh there is. You never wondered why Sammy needs to die?"

John half laughed rubbing his jaw. "Didn't see that coming." He said sarcastically and Dean just hauled off and punched him again knocking his head the other way. John took a step back holding his hands up, palms out in surrender.

"Don't you fucking laugh at me." Dean almost screamed but realised they were drawing attention. His eyes sort out his brother but he was moving off with his girl unaware of their presence.

But John could not help it. The look of fury his eldest gave him was out of place on the freckled beautiful face. He had been a beautiful child, a beautiful teenager and he was growing into a beautiful man. John had always appreciated his son's looks, his charms. Oh, if things had been different. Just another year without Sammy revealing just what he was and he would have claimed Dean. He let him know with the apprising look he gave him now.

Dean went white, then pink. -

Dean could not put it off any longer. His knuckle seamed to ache even before he made contact rapping on the wood of the door to his brother's apartment.

Eyes bright, Sam was happy to see him. Surprised, but happy. Throwing the door wide he grinned "What are'ya doing here? Come in." grabbing him up in a hug as soon as he stepped across the threshold. Dean hugged him back tight, surreptitiously inhaling 'that' smell.

"Come and meet Jess." Sam offered finally breaking free and moving off.

"Sam." Calling sharply, halting his brother's movement, causing him to look askance. "I'd love to but not now."

"Why? Dean what's wrong?"

He took a breath then, "John's not dead." He could not call him Dad or father. They never had after that day.

Sam said nothing just blinked and swayed slightly.

"I'm going on the road with him. I promise I'll keep him away from you. I won't let him hurt you."

"No." simple, direct, definitive.

"What else can I do?"

"Stay here. Stay here with me."

"I can't. It's the only way."

"We could kill him."

"Sammy no!"

"Why not? We thought you'd done it before."

"That was different….No Sammy." As he took breath to argue. "I need to know. I need to know why he did it, tried to …. why he's been gone so long and why he's back now."

"I don't care. I don't want you with him." almost petulantly but Dean could see the fear.

"It'll be okay. I can take of myself."

"Stay. Please"

He closed the gap between them, wrapping his younger brother in his arms and Sammy just relaxed into the embrace giving in to the inevitable. He may have been the taller but Sam pushed his face into Dean's neck and spoke against his skin, "Just promise me you will be careful. Don't let him hurt you."

"It's not me he wants." But knew deep down that could be a lie. He was under no illusions, if he failed, John Winchester would remove Dean as an obstacle to his solving a problem like Sam. He did not tell Sam, did not even want to think about it, but he had an awful feeling he knew just how to keep Winchester senior's interest and focus off his brother.

Sam pulled away but still held him loosely, staring into his eyes, those beautiful eyes that until he had met Jessica had held his whole world. They still held most of it. "Okay. But phone often, every week if not twice and Bobby too. Hell, does Dad know you're doing this?" Dean looked away avoiding Sam's searching gaze. "Damn it Dean! Phone him. You know what he's like. If I have to tell him, he'll hunt you down and probably shoot you just so he can take you home." affection in his voice thinking of the man he thought of as his father.

"I will…. I promise. Okay?"

"Okay." Smiling, once more so grateful for all his brother had done, had given up so he could have the life he did. Stepping back he let his hands drop then, on an impulse, reached for Dean, grasping his face and kissed him, quick but firmly on the lips then pulled the startled man into a fierce hug. "If you let him hurt you. I'll hunt you down and shoot you. You understand me?"

And giving back the embrace just as fiercely, he did.

==000==

"Sam. What's that idjit of a brother of yours think he's doing?"

"I don't know. I wish I did." Speaking sadly into the phone.

"What exactly did he say to you?"

"That he was going on the road with….Him. That he would keep him away from me, keep me safe. Dad? You didn't know did you?"

"Not till five minutes ago, no!"

"No. You didn't know about, about _him _did you?" pleading in Sam's his voice.

"No Son. I swear. I thought him dead just like you. Just like the bastard though, pull something like this. Turn up after all these years."

"Why'd he do it?" and tears entered his voice. Not so much for himself. Not because the man had tried to kill him but more for Dean. Dean who had loved John Winchester so much, had done anything and everything the man had asked of him, who had carried the guilt all these years.

"Guess that boy thinks he's protecting you. Can't see it's because he wants t'be with him. You know he loves ya way more than he ever did your old man."

"He's not our father. You are and you know it." Silence on the other end of the phone. With a grin breaking, "Dad? Are you sniffling?" nothing but a mumbling in reply, "Dad?" smiling now even through the worry.

"Shut up." With no venom just affection. He loved that Sam always called him Dad. He had never gone with the 'Sir' being uncomfortable with it, constantly reminding them, especially Dean, that he was not in the army.

With a sigh Sam said, "No. I meant _him_. Did either you or Dean ever work out why he was going to kill me? I thought he loved me." quiet with sadness for a life lost but, never truly forgotten.

"No, Son. Dean say's the last thing he remembers was that creature with its 'hands' round his throat then waking up back at that cabin. Can't you remember anything? Anything from that time?"

"You know I can't. All I remember is the look on _his_ face, then Dean holding me." There were the nightmares of course, but Sam had spent hours, days trying to figure fact from fiction and nothing made sense. "Can't you get him to come home?"

Bobby knew immediately that Sam meant his brother. "I've tried. He's set on this. But don't worry, Son. Dean can look after 'imself, and I ain't givin' up."

"Thanks Dad. For everything." And he truly meant it.

==000==

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

**Warning**... A mention of parental incest.

* * *

Sitting up sluggishly, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, Dean answered the cell loud in the dim room. "Yeah?" uninvitingly as he washed his face with his free hand.

"Dean? You okay? You didn't call."

With a smile he answered, "I'm fine," only just stopping himself from saying his brother's name, looking over his shoulder at the still sleeping older man. He never spoke Sam's name within hearing distance of John Winchester. He let the sheet slip, leaving him naked, as he rose from the bed and headed into the bathroom, quietly closing the door.

As if he knew, Sam's voice turned cold, "He's there isn't he?"

"Yeah. In bed." Then thought shit. But he was so used to telling Sam near everything.

"At this time?" scandalised, then quieter, "Is he hurt?"

"No," not liking the almost hope in Sam's voice. "Late nite."

"You on a hunt?"

"Yes." Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head. He had never lied to Sam. Not about real stuff anyway, 'pranks' aside. Now it was a common occurrence.

"You okay?" concerned.

"Yes," smiling. Sometimes his brother could be a complete mother hen.

"You sure?"

"Yes!" with a laugh.

"Dean. Leave him."

"I can't. Sammy, I don't trust him."

"But… Damn it. I can look after myself."

"No. I won't risk it. I'll keep him away from you."

"Why? Why do you have to? Come here. If you think I can't protect myself, fucking come here and do it for me!"

"Sammy!"

"I'm not twelve. I'm twenty and I don't want you with him!"

"Sam. Please!" he begged. He could cry from the emotion in his brother's voice, for his desire that it could be so.

"No. Damn it! Dean! Why the Hell are you doing this? Either come here or go home."

"But I still don't know why. He won't tell me."

"I don't fuckin' care anymore. It's not worth it."

"Yes, you are."

Silence then as they both took a breath to calm the emotions between them.

"Dean? What are you doing?" Sam had a really bad feeling. He remembered a lot from _the time before_. Much more than he had never admitted to anyone. Things that had never really registered, that had not made sense. He was older now, now he understood.

"What d'ya mean? I told you. I'm keeping you safe."

"No, Dean. What are you doing _with_ him?"

"Hunting, drinking," a note of fear in his voice. Sam was fishing for something but Sam must never know. "Women. You can guess," making his voice light. He was imagining it. His brother was perceptive but he did not have a clue. It was just his own guilt making him think that.

"Okay. Okay then. Don't forget to phone on Thursday," Sam said softly knowing his brother too well to expect him to tell him. He hated it when Dean insisted on shielding him from things. He loved him for wanting to.

"I won't," even quieter. He could never forget Sammy. He was always in his mind.

"And don't forget to phone Dad."

"Sam!" relief entering his voice.

"_Dean!_" but with a laugh making Dean feel better than he had in days. "See ya. Luv ya." Something they had been saying to each other for years.

"See ya. Luv … I love you, Sam. Don't forget that."

"Never," softly, with commitment.

Closing the phone, Dean let his head drop. That was why he felt like shit. Why he was hung-over, feeling used. Why Dean had still been in bed at gone noon. He loved his brother.

Using, then leaving the bathroom, Dean gazed at the man sat leaning against the headboard watching, waiting for him. "Who you talking to?"

Shrugging his shoulders, moving to pick up his jeans, "Just a friend."

John made a disbelieving grunt, "Sure you were."

Dean ran a hand through his hair as he stretched, licking his lips, making a show of it.

"Come here," as John threw back the sheet.

Dean looked at the man, looked at what he was stroking with one hand, his other arrogantly behind his head and, dropping the jeans, slowly moved to kneel on the bed, crawling up to settle between John Winchester's spread legs. Bending down, he began once more to distract the man from thinking about the person he had been talking to.

==000==

It had been nearly two years since he had seen his brother face to face.

"Dad's missing."

"What d'you mean, missing?"

"He went on a hunting trip a few days ago and he's not come back."

"But I spoke to Dad this afternoon. He's not missing."

"Not Bobby. John."

"Jess? Will you excuse us a moment please?"

============================ end =============================

===00===

I finnished it there but i think i may need to continue this. please let me now if i should. Cheers.


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